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Dirakkis Turn 2
Actions: Gorash: Songs of Stirring Littered throughout the trees, the people of Gorash lazily lounged with arms outstretched and stomachs full of strawberry products galore, thankful for the wisdom and insight of the village Bards. Not to be outdone by the boring Bards of the common folk, the roaming Bards of the wilderness sought out a more exciting usage of their counterparts discovery. They gather together a collection of small carts and proceed to wheel out large quantities of strawberries back into the depths of the swamps. This was their plan, if the people of Gorash found this fruit to be so appealing, perhaps some beasts of the swamp would as well. These beasts would be ever so much more useful than just simple fruit. So the Bards of the wild gathered round the bounty they had brought and struck up a lively jive to stir forth what assorted beasts of the land they could find use for. (Military Tech 1/2 War Beasts) Songs of Stillness With the rustling of the winds the sound of the roaming Bards music carried far and wide, across the swamps and into the villages. Sensing the potential dangers the reckless Bards of the wild could be stirring up, the Village bards assembled themselves for their very own performance. Their assemblage let loose a much more soothing sound of soft baselines accented by the occasional rush of drums and rapidly stamping feet. This song was sent forth to summon a barrier around the homes of the Gorashi, to turn aside the potential irritate beasts summoned by the Bards of the Wild. The people of the villages were quick to lend their voices, rhythms, and melodies to the Village Bards song of Warding, drowning out the vivacious sounds coming out from the swamp's heartlands in hopes of protecting their villages. (Military Tech 3/4- Defense Bonus) Skaldaea: Raven paced the ramparts of Skaldaea, three members stalking the parapet, one stuck in deep contemplation, as the fifth looked out over the plains to the east. Looking out over Tamer’s Shallows, the vast lake that mirrored the brilliantly blue sky overhead, Raven thought about the past few months. “Maybe…maybe we weren’t ready for civilization.” “What was that ma’am?” A voice asked, bright and cheery, in a direct contrast to her soft contemplation. Raven turned away from the east, looking towards the newcomer, a bright young woman named Thriver. “Oh, nothing dear. You’ve read the reports from Flenser’s expedition, I take it?” “Of course ma’am. And I’ve come to a conclusion, if you’d like to hear it.” Raven nodded in assent, and Thriver continued. “Looking over Flenser’s genealogy was….interesting. You were right, he is descended from Reyne. The brilliance of that member is undeniable, even through the generations. However, he’s got quite a bit of blood from the southern tribes, and their temper. You may be on to something here.” Raven nodded sagely, before interrupting. “You agree with my assessment, then?” “Yes, I do. Flenser is an effective tool, but he has the potential for so much more. If the same is true of all our citizens, it’s our duty, as the stewards of the nation, to help them unlock that potential. My scribes will begin work on the genealogical records immediately.” Raven nodded, before turning back to the lake, brows furrowed in thought. (Culturex1) In the storerooms deep beneath Raven’s Roost, the mountain upon which Skaldaea rested, Tamer dug through a number of musty parchments. “It’s got to be in here somewhere…” he thought, as five of his members shuffled through endless stacks. His sixth member scratched and tapped at a small chalkboard, its hands coated with the powdery residue. As the members worked, Tamer began to notice a pattern emerging from his research. Tracing a symbol onto the chalkboard, the sixth member noticed the rest of the band were beginning to slow in their work, contemplating the symbol. “The hands and the head…” muttered one of the members. “I think that’s enough research for now.” Tamer thought to himself. And I think Raven might want to think on this as well. (Culture, national symbolx1) Smoke began to rise over the mountain of Raven’s Roost, as the city of Skaldaea’s forges burned to life, and the clang of metal on metal filled the streets. Blacksmiths and apprentices rushed to complete the massive orders placed by Raven and her advisors, to craft thousands of naginatas, and send them to be stored in central warehouses around the city, to allow for a quick arming of the populace in case of emergency. (Militaryx1) In a dimly lit cottage in one of the outlying Skaldaean villages, Flenser also paced. Only one of his members stalked the floor, fingering at a leather pouch on his belt. The rest of his members sat perched on the edge of the dusty furniture, which creaked with every small shift. With a light knock on the rickety door, another band entered the shack, clearly nervous. “Ah, you got my message did you?” Flenser asked. When the other band’s members nodded, he continued. “You know what I’m asking you, and you’re still willing?” When the other band nodded again, too terrified to speak, Flenser smiled sadly. “Here you go then. I hope it helps. Your sacrifice will be remembered.” Handing the band a small leather bag from his belt, that clinked with gold as the other member grasped it, Flenser’s standing member whipped a dagger from his side and slashed it across another of his member’s throat. Blood fountained from the man, painting one of the walls in crimson, and the dust mingled with the steaming red. Flenser staggered, stunned by the shock, even though he was prepared for it. Turning, two of the remaining members swung their fists at the newcomer’s smallest member, driving it to the floor. Howling in pain, the remaining members retreated from the shack, clutching at the small bag of coins. As two of Flenser’s members held down the struggling member, who began to shake violently as the distance between it and its band grew, and the third Flenser member checked the dead fourth member, Flenser’s last member stooped over their prisoner. “Shhh, shhhh, it will be over soon,” he crooned, grasping the member’s head near the temple with both hands. Leaning down, touching his forehead to theirs, he whispered once more to it. “Welcome, brother, to Flenser. We are honored to have you.” (Bonus to military researchx1). Akachk: Before dawn, most of the inhabitants of the village of Kitchi remain asleep. Not so for a young Akachk woman, Nixkau. She and her fellow apprentices can only collect the sacred incenses just before the sun rises, when the tree-demons are at their most peaceful. Most of the lizard-folk steer far clear of the onabika, for they are quite dangerous, and fiercely territorial. But the incense that grows on their bark is quite valuable, and the seers must have it to do their work. (1, Culture) http://i.imgur.com/Sw9SGLz.jpg (pic related, an onabika) Kana is not pleased with the state of the coal mining in the Confederation. To this end, he calls together the various Akachk foremen, and has a committee on mining established, to regulate and oversee the expansion and creation of new mines. Coal is the life-blood of the Akachk, and they must have more fuel. (2-3, Income) The union of the three tribes was not a mere coincidence. Most of the coal in the nation lies under the control of the Hakau, while the Kitchi control the copper and the Atawun possess the sole tin mine in the Confederation's lands. Together, the three are able to produce bronze in far greater quantities that could previously be expected. Now, after a year of union, production of the metal can begin in earnest, and the warriors appropriately equipped. (4, Military). Stormborn: Atticus Vorn heard the man’s shouts before he saw him. Neither the man’s presence nor his anger had come as a shock to the Generally Accepted Leader. Atticus had failed him. To Elias Brannstrom-the person presently shouting in his face-Atticus had promised that no harm would come to his sister, Nova. He reasoned that they were the storm and the storm was them. So what harm could come? Atticus had never imagined that it would take her mind, leaving nothing but an empty body as a memory. For a time Atticus stood there and accepted Elias’ shouted words. He took in his grief and anger and let it wash around him. This was Elias right. Thinking once more of Nova put a weight upon his shoulders, and thinking further of Conri Foley brought a weakness to his knees. Conri was once of the brightest sparks on the island, his mind quick as lightning, and his temperament gentle as the wind. These two, Atticus knew, were people that he would carry as his rightful burden for the rest of his life. Sensing that Elias’ tirade was coming to an end, Atticus held up a hand to forestall any further words. Finally, meeting Elias’ eyes Atticus told him, “There is none that feels her passing more than I. It was by my direction that she went into that chamber and attempted to accept a gift meant for me. In this I failed, and it will weight upon me for as long as I live. I have made a mistake that will never be rectified, but I hope to be able to keep it from happening again.” At Elias’ confused look Atticus continued, “I have sent message so far to a number of people that are considered the best at what they do. Some you will recognize: there is Braedon “Swift-step” MacAuley, the utmost skilled at storm travel; Artemis Foettainos, also known as lightning friend; Melina Adler, the best wind caller on the island; and lastly there is Azura Delacroix, the rain dancer.” “What do you seek to do with all these?” queried Elias, now thoroughly confused, “And what does this have to do with what happened to Nova?” “These people” Atticus answered, “are hopefully going to make up a council made to advise me on my future actions. They will also help provide leadership in areas in which I have no knowledge. And I would like you to be the head of this council.” At his surprised look Atticus added, “so that you may make completely certain that I never repeat what happened to Nova and Conri.” (1: Culture) Elias studied Atticus for a moment until finally, seeming to find whatever he was looking for, he nodded and turned away. Atticus called out after him, “I asked the Syntolla about Nova.” Elias paused. “They told me that for those that are Stormborn there is no death, we simply join the storm fully. They said, ‘look for those two in the whirlwind of the storm, for it is there that we will find what is lost.’” Elias seemed to have no reaction, but as he walked away once more the tears spilled freely from his eyes. * * * Braedon MacAuley watched the children playing, the secret to their flight seeming just out of reach. They played a strange game that somehow involved a ball and sticks. To all appearances there were no rules to this game, and it looked more akin to a mass mob chasing a ball around. Watching them made him feel twitchy and restless, there was so much movement and actions that it made him want to join in the fun. But instead he was required to stand here and watch, trying to unlock the secrets using his mind. In the last three hours of watching Braedon had learned nothing, and his desire to join just kept increasing. Finally, just as he was about to rush forward and join them, he saw his sister dash out of the woods, twirling her shillelagh in what only he could tell was joy, and snatch the ball away from the crowd. As the children stared at her in shocked confusion Brigit’s previously stern face broke into a fierce grin as she held the ball out in challenge. Roaring with delight the children charged after her and the game began again in earnest. As she played she started to lose all sense of personal dignity or restriction. Everything became a possibility should she just pursue it. As Braedon watched he saw Brigit, slowly at first but gaining quickly, start to performing as the children. She was dancing through the air just like they were. To Braedon it seemed like a miracle, she was doing more towards flying than anyone else had managed. And then it hit him and a large smile began to spread across his face. There was only one way for him to gain more information on this. Seeing Brigit coming by with the ball he crouched and waited. As soon as she drew near he leapt out and plucked it from her arms, throwing a victorious wink towards his sister. For a moment she was confused, and then the game was on. (2: Naval Military Tech) * * * Again Artemis Foetainos called lightning to his hand, and again it shot through his body and dispersed amongst the rocks. Unlike Atticus, Artemis feared for his people. He remembered what it was like before he became a Stormborn. He remembered his fear. He feared the unknown and strange, and he could admit to himself that he was now one of the strange things of the world. Artemis also remembered what happened to the strange. It was usually stopped, by any means. Again the lighting, and again failure. Artemis refused to let the Stormborn be announce without protection. Lightning. He would not see his family and friends killed. Lightning. He would not lose all that he loved again. Lightning. Filled with a righteous fury, Artemis once more looked down at his hand. Lightning arched between his fingers and across his palms. Startled at his success, Artemis’ face broke into a wide smile, his anger vanishing in an instant. And just as quickly the lightning once more dispersed. He snorted to himself, “no matter, I now know it is possible.” (3: Defensive Tech) * * * Melina Adler once more excitedly accepted another air message from Vivian. Melina and Vivian, her apprentice, had been working on the range of the air messages. For some reason the sound always seemed to degrade within a certain amount of distance away from the sender. Melina knew it would be a perfect source of income if they could just perfect it a little bit more. She opened the message, and to her disappointment a jumbled mish-mash of sounds emitted from it. They just needed a faster means of sending the message. The sounds only lasted so long within the air bubbles. The wind blew her hair in her face and she absently brushed it aside. As it stood the messages were always reliable, the problem was the distance and the length of the message. The local winds, while powerful, were nowhere near fast enough. The wind blew a few leaves in her face and she brushed them away distractedly, pacing now. Maybe they could charge the winds like they had the amulets? No that was ridic-at that moment a large wind arose, and knocked her off her feet. Melina tumbled a few yards before dizzily looking around. What was that? Reaching out to the winds she felt something much larger than was usually found on their small island and it was coming from the North. Realization sparked through her mind. Of course! The Four Great Winds have more power than anything they could conjure. They just need to find a way to use them. (4: Income) As Melina walked away, muttering to herself about her problems, the wind left behind swirled haphazardly. It was as if the wind were both happy that Melina FINALLY got the message, and also slightly disgruntled because it took so long. It swirled there for a time before finding something more interesting to do. Commera: Merchants Seek to Expand Internationally Many merchants in Merova have made public their aims to trade with peoplesoutside of Commera. The first to announce their intentions was Somer Ledoron ofOva, on 4527. In her public statement, sheoffered a bounty of 100 dumielin to the firstcrew to get cargo to and from anotherlarge nation. Other merchants began following suit, some building their ownships to make the journey. However, no progress has yet been made, as contem– porary hot-air balloons cannot carry asufficient payload. As of 4580, the reward was increased to 200 dumielin. – Sosen Brav This Issue’s Glyph This glyph is to be inscribed on cups, and will heat your morning beverage without putting it on a stove. It takes only a little willpower to activate, and can be used every six hours. Instructions on page 14 Recent Neologisms “Oral olaken asin a eran.” (LiteralTranslation: “None of my actions are magic”) – used as a boast after an accomplishment“Oren acom tenon anterol”… cont page 12 Editorial: The Case for Tax-Funded Transports Trade helps everyone. It allows workers to specialize, which increases their efficiency. Trade between people is responsible for every job beyond food production. Trade between districts has created community specialization, allowing farmers to get the most fertile land and creating cities with governments and laws. International trade will create further specialization, allowing opportunities beyond our current way of life. Perhaps we could become a nation of aristocracy? Perhaps we can invite new and beneficial technology into our borders? Perhaps our culture and influence can spread to other peoples? The possibilities are vast. It is for this reason I believe the Commeran government should fund the development of safe long distance transports with which to conduct international trade.The increased wealth from trade will greatly offset the cost of the research. In fact, well-known merchant Denaren Olkon of Ova calculated the return on investment to be 160% in the first five years.After one generation, the projected ROIincreases to over 1000%.So, Minister Alar, I believe you will agree that the Commeran national government should provide funding to long-distance transportation, be it ships, balloons, magic, or trained whales. Trade’s bounty will enrich us all. (Translator’s note:“Mielen Merr ala Miela Adomen” is a humorous salutation among merchants. It also means, “We value traders selling people”, implying prostitution.) Ramkarh: Ramun’s heat bore down on Arane as she made her journey to the center of town. It was shaping up to be the hottest season the Ramkarh had seen since unification, and after the fifth night of Kif returning from the royal court drenched in sweat and gasping for breath she’d had to weave him a light cloak with a hood to keep him cool. She was relieved to feel a light breeze begin to blow through the streets as she climbed the steps to the market. The market was a nice addition; now that there was a central location to barter goods, she didn’t have to trek to outlying farmsteads to obtain what she needed. (Income 1) She began to set up her stall near the center of the market when she was greeted by an older voice. “Anything new today?” “Well, I’ve got a few new patterns I was working on, but nothing too special,” she replied as she hung assorted cloaks and scarves from poles in front of her counter. “Anything new from you?” “Just a few baubles. Rik hasn’t brought home much to work with the past few weeks.” Rik and Rala had come down with the mountain tribes a few years back and Rik now spent his time digging around the settlement for any metal or rocks to work with, which Rala worked into trinkets. “I do have a little Laiknathe necklace I worked out of some quartz I’m quite proud of.” “That looks beautiful! I’d gladly trade a scarf for it, if you’d have one,” Arane said as she inspected the crystal jackal’s head. “Trouble finding new materials, you said?” “Just not the right ground for it, I’m afraid. Rik petitioned the king in court the other day to let him take a group of miners into the mountains to see if there was any proper land to set up. Apparently one of the priestesses approved of the idea and pushed the king to agree, and Rik’s been gone since yesterday.” (Expansion 2,3 – continuing original expansion push as well) ____________________________________ “Ramkamhe, I urge you to reconsider. This man may not understand the wisdom of his suggestion, but having metal to work could be more imperative than you could know.” “To work for what, Marin?” Laik’Marin glared at the king’s omission of her honorific. He always forgot her position as Laiknathe’s mediator. It almost seemed deliberate. “We have the tools we need here to work our fields, to tend our goats, to serve our people. We’re already sending one group to the north for pastures. Would it not be unwise to spread our people even thinner just as we’re getting established?” “To work for our safety, my king. The tools we have now have served us well, yes, but our people have not yet known hardship. There have been small things, yes; beasts eat our flocks, the crops are poor, but this is nothing. Laiknathe has protected us. I speak of things to come, terrible things. Darkness. The screams of our women. Savagery. I have been shown these things that we may prepare for the future. We may need spears, swords, staves made of harder things than what we can find here.” Ramkamhe gave her a searching look and sighed, then turned to the man standing in the court. “You’re sure you can find the metals you promise in these mountains?” “Metals and more, my king. Rare gems and stone fit for the finest building. The earth was still rich when we left for the river not all that long ago.” “Very well, then. You may have your team. I expect a full report on the prospects in three moons’ time. If you do find any of these metals you speak of set to work determining the best way to craft them.” (Military Tech 4) Laik’Marin returned to her seat as final arrangements were made. The visions had been increasingly vivid as of late, and she worried that she did not yet understand the full ramifications of what was to come. Leaning her head against her hand, she scanned the room. The court reeked of tension today. Her eye fell upon a man on the far side of the cobbles, putting his things together to leave. She didn’t know why; he was just another man in court. Was he a builder, or did he do expenses? It was hard to remember. Regardless, there was something different about this one. Silver flashed above his head for a moment, and then was gone. Unsure how to interpret what she was seeing, Laik’Marin peered intently at the anomaly until he raised his head and caught her staring. She quickly averted her eyes as she rose and turned towards the temple. It would have to wait. Kingdom of the Stars: The people, bereft of wordly leadership, look to the heavens for guidance. The gods grant them two rulers, the Sun and the Moon. Their names? Irrelevant. Their power? Absolute. Their whims? Duty. The first moon is a master of the darkest magics of the heavens. He wields the magics of the moon, he is the stern father controlling the people. His position, and that of his ally the sun are maintained through their magics. The mind is weak. Magic is not. (Culture 1+2) The first Sun controls the benevolent light, the source of life in the dark, cold, wastes of the north. Her power is spent giving sustenance to the people. She creates warmth where there is cold and life where frozen ground once was. These magics allow crops to be grown to feed the people and allow for sedentary life. (Income 3+4). Commune of the Gods: Pung chucks a log underhand across the lodge room towards the grand fireplace. The piece of wood clatters off the mantle and rolls away. The God of Dance sighs, but just then, he feels a prayer shoot through his mind. A prayer was everything. For a moment, Pung can feel all the badness--his drowsiness, the aching in his knees, his hunger--fading away. The prayers were fairly regular; Pung got probably one or two a day; he wasn't sure where they came from, or how many the other gods got. Pung straightens his slouch and returns to the task at hand, sweeping the clutter out of the lodge common room from the party the four gods had had before. Given, Dunlap had gotten really sick at midnight when Wednesday turned to Thursday, and the gathering broke up around then, but it had actually been one of the more fun nights in his recent memory. But a casual gathering of friends couldn't replace the longing in his heart for the ballrooms of Commera. Rega walks in through the swinging lodge doors. The God of Dentists, trying to make himself more useful, had been delivering reports on progress around the living community. Samin was out in the forest, trying to go further than any of them had ever gone before, and hopefully see if the island had any life on it besides them and the numerous woodland creatures that were seemingly everywhere (expand, 1). As for Rega, he himself had stumbled upon the old house of the God of Chocolate, whose name he had forgotten, but he had found a monumental cache of the stuff and hauled it back to the lodge on a sleigh of his own making, cursing under his breath the whole time--the stuff was absolutely terrible for you if you planned on keeping your molars, but it wasn't like gods really ever needed teeth cleaned anyway. Rega brushed regardless. Force of habit. He had even left a few of them on Dunlap's front porch, too (3, culture). Meanwhile, on Golgannis, tall tales are being woven about a human boy in a red tunic, a boy who could purportedly drink his own weight and headbutt someone twice his height through a plaster wall. Domnall, pleased with the reputation he has accrued thus far, continues his winding way south, leaving a story behind in every town he visits (culture, 3-4). Soon; soon they would believe again. Phantasmagoria: In his sadness, Hypnosomus ponders why it is suddenly so hard to imagine his surroundings into existence. It may be because he has never really tried before. Except for small experimental figments, most figments came from his unconscious thought. He would have to build up his world piece by piece. Start small, and grow. Income Military Culture Hypnosomus also realizes that he has a dull throbbing headache right now. It always happens every 30 nights or so. It seems to happen when the moon's light shines brightly on the ground above him. If only there were some way to block out the painful light. He thinks and thinks, but the more he tries to think, the more his headache hurts him. His frustration causes a black storm cloud to appear above him, blocking out the light some. "Oh, that feels a bit better," he thinks. Now to imagine more. Anti-migraine-moon tech: take seven rain clouds every month as needed. The Peters: Peters grow more and more numerous by the day. Cloning was illegal in the city of Peter, and no one admitted it, but there were an alarmingly fast growing population of Peters, and sexual reproduction was highly unlikely. Peter needed room. Surrounded by the sea, there was only one place to go... the skies. Action 1 2 Flying tech, action 3 4 income. Zinbiel: “The people are freezing”. “No shit!” Keyes retorted. He didn’t care who asked and frankly if he knew someone was approaching him, he would have left. “Well, we need you to fix it”. Keyes had little interest in saving the very people who tarred and feathered the only person in all of Zinbiel he trusted with economic ideas. “Please fuck o... Oh. I didn’t realize it was you” Keyes finally spun around to see his new apprentice beaming a smile in his direction. All of the Youngers had an apprentice to replace them when they got to old. This would hopefully prevent the nation from becoming too stagnant. “You are the smartest and the bravest of all the Youngers. Zinbiel needs your help”. Pyth responded, still beaming with an unmerited amount of self-confidence. “Fine, lets go for a walk then”. Keyes did not want Pyth to follow, but he knew that Pyth would regardless. “Where are we going Master Younger Keyes?” “To the new lands to investigate this ‘cold’ people complain about”. The walk was a few days long, but neither had anything better to do. Pyth’s dad was covered in tar and feathers and his mom was dead. Keyes had not spoke a word to the other Youngers since Pyth’s dad had been tarred. They were very close friends, which is the only reason he puts up with Pyth. On the long journey Pyth would point out animals, and make a rather irritating imitation call. Keyes would respond by telling Pyth to shut up. “I’m cold. It’s too windy. Why are we doing this?” Were the only other bits of conversation between the two. Initially Keyes would answer by explaining he wasn’t cold, it was just the wind and that is the reason for their trek, but by the second day he started to just ignore Pyth altogether. When they were a day out of the southernmost village, Keyes noticed the wind was starting to get to him too. It was weird. Most Zinbielians never got cold. Keyes honestly thought the complaints were bogus, but being in the wind now really changed his mind. ‘How do the animals do it’ Keyes thought to himself. Simultaneously Pyth had found a wolf and started barking at it. “Shut up” Keyes responded not even looking at the wolf. “What is it?” Pyth asked. “A dog. They are small and harmless”. “This one is really hairy though and big”. “I don’t care”. Keyes said realizing he was being kind of rude, but Pyth did not seem to mind at all. “Wait say that again” Keyes was forming an idea. “THAT ONE IS REALLY BIG AND HAIRY!” Pyth shouted from excitement. It was rare for his master to ask something from him. “That’s it hair! Skin the animals and use the fur to keep the wind out!” Keyes thought he was a genius, but then it hit him. It being the wolf, attacked from behind the travelers. The wolf took Keyes’ legs out from under him and crunched down hard on his right foot. “RUN PYTH!” Keyes screamed as he bashed the wolf on its nose. Keyes heard rumors that hitting a wolf there would make it back off. These were apparently false. The wolf only bit down harder. “AHHHHH. GO PYTH!” finally Pyth started to run, which attracted the wolf’s attention just long enough for Keyes to unlatch the beast’s grip on his foot. He jumped to his feet and fell back down immediately. The wolf had taken all the strength from his right leg and a few toes too. The milliseconds it took for Keyes to realize he fell were enough for the wolf to finish the kill. Pyth successfully made it to the village on the edge of Zinbiel and told them about using fur for protection from the wind. This could help them expand even further south (Expansion Tech 1). But in order to get the fur, hunting had to be done. The village hosted a big hunt in order to get more fur and it was such a popular event it became tradition (Culture 2). Some people did not enjoy the hunting as much, so they stayed in the village and made ornate designs in the fur for when the hunters returned (Culture 3). Finally a group of crazy people took all sorts of different materials and wrapped them in fur to see what would happen. Normally nothing, but when they wrapped fur around a hollowed out piece of ice they noticed the ice would not melt if the fur was facing the ice, and the skin was facing the water. And it was actually very buoyant. People began experimenting with size and fur types to see what would work best. The idea was to make a ship like an iceberg, with the majority under the water (Defensive naval tech 4). Aripa: The body grows, as does the soul, when exposed to harsher, greater things. Just as we must exercise the body, so must we expand and grow the state. Send your forces out, Glaucon, this is the decree of the Philosopher. Remember, your men are to act as dogs, loyal solely to The City, distrustful of all others. Never let them pollute your mind. They speak only lies. (Expansion 1) Adiemantus, remember your people must be well fed and nourished. The body must have proper nutrition. Therefore we must grow our capacity for monetary growth. After all, if the body cannot support itself, it will fall apart. This is a prime concern. (Economic growth 1) The first order of The City is to grasp the forms. Therefore, Guardians, contemplate the forms. Think on them. Exit the cave and see the true shape and form of what we see. Remember, never trust the shadows cast by the world we live in. The forms are Truth. (Culture Research 1 and Culture roll 1) These are the words of The Philosopher. Results: Gorash: -1, 7, 1, 7 (-2 to all roles due to the presence of the Dark Moon) All Gorashi know that their magic, the bardsong, is an immensely delicate art, requiring nigh perfection in every word and note. One tiny error can be fatal. Thus did the Gorashi find themselves overrun with great salamanders when the wild bards sang their song of delicious fruits they had cultivated in their lands. As they climbed through the swamp, their song spread far and wide, until every one of the omnivorous beasts had heard and gone stampeding towards the village. The Song of Stirring was perhaps too great a success. Yet the Gorashi of the village, in their wisdom, had known such a thing might happen. But they could not have predicted the incredible volume of animals summoned by their careless counterparts. As villagers tried to coordinate their songs, they are met with a cacophony of horrible sounds, like the cries of so many children lost in the swamp. As the Dark Moon rises over the swamp, and the disturbing sounds fill the air, hordes of the 20 foot long salamanders overrun the strawberry fields, forcing the villagers to wait out the onslaught in their treetop homes. (No military bonus conferred, -2 income from salamander gluttony). Skaldaea: 3, 17, 4, 16 The genealogy of a Skaldean is a difficult thing to track. Efforts to begin family trees are quickly met with the problem of how to categorize them. Half of the scribes begin lists based on parental bloodlines, while others attempt to list the changing membership of each mindgroup over time. While each of these is decidedly useful, the sheer quantity of Skaldeans and mindgroups means that the endeavor is not one that can be completed in a timely manner. Meanwhile, Tamer presents Raven with the new symbol of Skaldean, the five interlocking rings. It is quickly accepted as a new symbol representing a national identity for a people starting the long road of civilization. (+2 culture) Meanwhile, Flenser begins to put his military mind to work. While the new naginatas he has to work with are poor quality, (no mil bonus) he is confident that with proper strategies and combat techniques, they will be able perform admirably on the field of battle. However, as his mindgroup contemplates how best to use them, the mind of one of his members is slower and uneasy. This would not do. (1 more success needed). Akachk Confederation: 16, 4, 15, 20 Bowing before a massive onabika, Nixkau whispers to her master, “You see Sage Mela? If you approach them slowly with the Darima flowers, they actually let you onto their backs! They’re not so scary if you put them in the right mood!” “Truly you are blessed child,” replied the Sage. “Go and tell your mother to start collecting the Darimas so that we may harvest this incense safely” (+2 culture) Meanwhile, Kana pushes the Coalition of Foremen into action. With his urging, the normally self-centered miners manage to come to agreeable terms as to who shall mine what parts of the land and where their coal shall go. (+3 income) The Hakua begin sending all surplus coal to the bronze forges, where almost all of it is put to use creating the finest bronze weapons Kana has ever seen. The speed at which the craftsmen produced these khopesh had at first made Kana doubt their quality. But each was flawless, and soon they became the standard weapon of every Akchak. (Epic tech get, flawless craftsmen: +3 mil bonus, +1 to military research). Stormborn: 17, 18, 18, 8 Atticus stands upon the shore of the tiny island the storm is centered on. Much has happened in the past few weeks. Elias had taken to the role of council leader like a cloud to the wind, and now they met every twelve days to discuss the goings-on of the stormborn, as well as plan for the future. (+2 culture) And much had there been to talk about! The MacAuley siblings had revealed the secrets of the air-dance, the need to make light one’s spirit so that they might feel the uplifting winds that surround them. (+3 naval bonus) That particular revelation had all kinds of implications for life on the island, now unbound from the land. At the same time, Atticus was worried. Artemis had started down a path which could only lead to ruination. The young man could now hold the lightning of the storm within his hands, at least while within it, and had twice now slain one of the mighty seabirds when they had startled him. It was a dangerous game he played (+6 defensive bonus). Meanwhile, a woman named Melina had started on a path of equal danger, seeking to harness the power of the Four Great Winds. Atticus shook his head. What was he going to do with people such as this? (No income success). Commera: 5, 17, 7, 7 Commerans were a very straightforward sort of folk. Life was about making sure that life went on, be that through magic or bureaucracy or through putting in hard work each day in the fields. This meant that when Minister Alar started purchasing lumber in great store without explaining why, they became very nervous and confused. This went on for nearly a month, as timber poured in from the newly opened frontier. Yet at the end of that month, the first Commeran ship was launched into the Merovan Bay, a great three-masted ship with sails that billowed in the wind. Toted as a triumph of Commerans over the land they lived in, it was stocked full of the finest foods and goods in Merova, and christened the Possibility. This would be the flagship in what Minister Alar called the “Commeran Merchant Fleet”. (+2 naval bonus). Ramkarh: 18, 13, 2, 5 (-2 to all rolls due to the presence of the Dark Moon) It was a time of great prosperity in the lands of the Ramkarh. In every town it seemed that a marketplace had sprung up overnight, and each day the plazas were filled with the sounds of bartering and haggling as each man, woman, and child sought to find the best trade for their goods. This prosperity could be felt from farm to throne, as the price of goats fell to only three baskets of onions. For now it seemed, no Ramkarhan would go hungry. (+4 income) Yet outside of the borders of the kingdom, things were much more tenuous. The miners which had been sent into the mountains had reported back claims of manlike beasts assaulting their camps, while the glowing purple moon played tricks upon the eyes of the guards. Yet the King, for the most part, ignored these claims, and merely sent more troops and arms and food until they had claimed another piece of land for the Ramkarh. (Expansion GET, +5 income, -10 wealth) However, the mountains were not filled with ores as expected by the miners. Instead, all that was gained were small veins of silver and copper, which pleased craftsmen such as Rik greatly. Kingdom of the Stars: 17, 6, 1, 8 (-2 to all rolls due to the presence of the Dark Moon) Staring up at the sky, Maruk lets out a long howl. Overhead, the Dark Moon glows its dull violet light, seeming to pulse as the beastman gazes at it. The father of the skies is not a kind one. All throughout Coldmerrow, the people feel its effects as it saps their strength and lays the elderly to their final rest. Yet Maruk knows that his people should not fear the moon, and decides that, while the father is so near, he will lead his people each night in the Packshout, a ritual that predates memory. (+2 culture) Yet the preeminence of the moon overpowers the light of the Sun. Where the people would normally awaken to be warmed by her light, they instead feel the chill of the moon deep in their bones long into the morning. Despite their best efforts, the harvest is underwhelming that year, the people too exhausted from the Dark Moon’s demanding presence. (no income successes). Conclave of the Gods: 13, 2, 19, 9 Samin strolled through the forests of the island smiling meaninglessly to himself. He had a hard job, and he knew it. It would be one thing to be the god of hope, and to give people a genuine chance to succeed at things. But he was the god of false hope, and thus forced to always give hope, even when the poor souls were almost certain to fail. Wandering alone in the woods, he feels the downpour of prayers from the downtrodden of Commera, and begins to cry softly. Of all the gods on the island, he always had received the most prayers. But sometimes it was not as bad as it seemed, he thought to himself, as he looked up at the animals running around through the trees. Perhaps there was something to false hope. (Expansion GET, +5 income) As Rega fought his own internal battle over bringing chocolate back to camp (no culture), the tales of Domnall grow on Golgannis. After his brief appearance in the Akchak Confederation, he found his way south into a strange island surrounded by an unceasing storm. The tavern there was one of his favorites. The stormborn were composed of people from every continent andtime, now swept into the storm to become part of it, and it part of them. As such, it was not long before he had the place cackling with lighting and thunderclaps as the men of various backgrounds all turned upon Domnall and each other in a fight most akin to a tornado. It was one that would be remembered throughout the Syntolla for ages. (+3 culture). Phantasmagoria: 15, 12, 15, 4 The passing of the Dark Moon from overhead heralds the return of pleasant dreams to the mind of Hypnosomnus. Had he a face, he would smile. All across his landscape, the world becomes a fascinating jumble of lights and colors, as tiny animals spring into life. At first they appear as tiny black blobs, with squiggly outlines and a pair of tiny eyes. They scatter throughout the land, running under the leaves of bushes and twirling between blades of grass. As they move, they seem to encourage the plants to burst into new life. (+3 income) Moving his thoughts to ones of combat, Hypnosomus imagines a creature to protect these tiny black creatures. He at first imagines a humanoid creature, as he had in the past. But as he ponders, he realizes this is not quite scary enough. As such, he makes it a larger creature, almost ten feet tall with skin as hard as stone. Its lanky arms reach all the way down to its feet, and it surveys the world with a pair of mismatched eyes. They will serve as perfect sentinels in this land. (+1 military) Yet as Hypnosomus creates these things, he cannot decide what they should do besides exist. Watching them for a while, he decides that the thing they have in common is what he has not created himself: the plants of the land. If the tiny black figments cause flowers to bloom and trees to grow, then the golems shall protect these plants and allow the figments to do revel in the landscape. (culture +2) Pausing only for a moment to remember the Dark Moon, Hypnosomus puts off thinking about how to combat it and instead enjoy the living thoughts above him. (no progress made on anti-Dark Moon tech). Peter: 6, 3, 18, 4 (-2 to all rolls due to the presence of the Dark Moon) Peter was not a stupid man. Peter knew that Peter has been cloning himself, and was pretty sure that Peter and Peter had been as well. He put the thought behind him though as he looked back at the contraption in front of him. Getting something to fly was a mind-boggling prospect to him. At first, Peter had approached him suggesting that they copy birds, and make a contraption with flapping wings to carry itself into the sky. Then Peter had arrived, suggesting that air was like water, and that if the right substance could be found, the contraption would simply float to the top of the air. Finally, Peter had approached him suggesting that they could harness the power of the wind to carry them into the air like a kite. But Peter had already started working on a design centered on a giant rotor, which would pull the machine into the air. As all the ideas had been sound ones, however, he had decided to incorporate them in his design. What lay before him was a mess. Pulleys attached to an air-filled balloon which sat on the ground with wings jutting off of it at 90 degree angles, while a sail sat on top of that. The balloon itself was attached to the top of a crank which spun it in a circle. Altogether, it achieved, essentially, fuck all. (Get a 20 and then we’ll talk). In the meantime, the kindly fisherman decides it would be best to keep bringing his catch to the island. Peter’s have got to eat. (+4 income) Zinbiel: 18, 7, 10, 8 To the Zinbiel, Pyth’s idea was revolutionary. By wearing animal pelts, they could endure there a lot of the cold where they lived, and in fact push further south. (expansion GET, +5 income, -10 wealth) However, hunting was a lot more difficult than they expected. With no real weapons to speak of, the Zinbiel found themselves trying to fight wolves with their bare hands. This went about as well as one might expect. As the people of the village mourned the seasonal loss of their hunters, they found that not even the most beautiful of trinkets could console them. (no culture successes). The idea was crazy to being with, though it made a little sense at the time. Take an iceberg, hollow it out, and wrap the thing in a lot of pelts. Simple. But as dozens of Zinbiel picked their way through the center of the ice, a terrible groaning sound was heard. They had heard something a little like it before, while walking atop frozen lakes. Within seconds, they realized what it meant. A lot of men were lost that day, when the iceberg cracked in half and trapped them beneath the freezing water. Anyone who wanted to get across the water would have to find a safer way to do it. (no naval tech success). Aripa: 17, 1, 11, 15 The men move out into the wilderness in search of better lands to help grow the city into something greater than it already is. Heading north, they find an expanse of hills, devoid of other sentient life. Taking the time to clear out the monsters and animals from these areas, they soon begin to bring home ores and gems from newly created mines. (Expansion GET, +5 income) However, these new lands are unfit for farming, largely due to the presence of a particularly durable weed, which chokes the plants and whose deep roots are almost impossible to kill. (-2 to the next 4 income rolls unless you successfully expand again) The Guardians ponder the words of the Philosopher for a long time. They know that they must attempt to understand the forms, and thereby gain deeper understanding of how the world works. But this is, as the Philosopher cautioned, a herculean task. (no culture research success) However, contemplation soon sparks discussion, and soon a daily forum becomes part of life for the Guardians, where they debate the meaning of the Philosopher’s teachings. (culture +2). Category:Nationbuilder VII Turn Records